Waxing Compost Moon

I have been counting down to Westacre Day for nearly a year now. If you have been counting with me, you will have noticed it is 21 December 2012, which is a momentous day.

If you haven't heard about the Mayan prophecy, you must have lived on another planet in the last few years. The idea of 21.12.12 as the 'end of the world' has been gathering strength for many years. I don't personally believe anything of particular note will happen on a world scale, but I decided to make the prophecy come true on a personal level: 21 December will be the end of the world as I know it and the beginning of a new one.

The Winter Solstice is the beginning of the new cycle of the year for me, anyway. This time between Samhain and Midwinter is a time of stillness, where the earth embraces the growth of the past cycle and turns it into fertile soil for the next one. The new beginning happens with the rebirth of the Sun at the Solstice. Could there be a better time to leave behind our old London life and start our Westacre adventure?

Of course, when I first thought of this date, I was assuming a number of things that have not actually happened. Alex and I both imagined that Roger would be settled into his bungalow by now, and that we would have had a time of rest and planning back in Harrow. As it is, things have been slower than we expected. There is still a lot to do on the bungalow, and Roger may or may not be able to move into it by Christmas.

Which makes 21 December a bit of an anti-climax. It is likely that it won't be the day when I take posession of the Westacre property and claim it as my own. It is probably going to be just an ordinary day of work among many, and Westacre will still be Roger's home. Still, I intend to make it into a special day, if only on a very small scale.

I have to let go of my dream of having a number of my friends come and join us for an elaborate ritual in the garden with people speaking for the time and the place, challenging our intent, and blessing our future. It will have to be a very small private thing, just for me, and for Alex if he wants to join me. I plan to spend some time in the dark, listening to the spirits of the place, and then to light a fire in my fire bowl. I want to carry some of that fire into the house and light the wood burner with it, lighting our hearth with the intention of the new cycle and our new adventure. If I'm lucky, I'll get my own key to the front door.

Actually, this scaled down ritual is very symbolic of what the Westacre adventure is turning out to be. We are taking on, have taken on, a huge job. And as we are doing most of it ourselves, hopefully with some help from friends, we won't ever really know how long things will take and how many obstacles we will meet. We are going to have to let go of some grand ideas along the way and be flexible, doing what we can with the time that we have.

It is the same lesson again: I am called to let go of the stories of the past that make me resist the reality of the present, and to let go of desired outcomes for the future. The only reality is the here and now, and the beauty that flows through this day.

A blessing on all your days, dear friends.